Wog Eat Wog World (idea)

One day, a senile old man went to the supermarket. He walked through the
aisles with the air of a king--The King in fact. Gazing at the cashiers
as he made his ancient way towards them he couldn't help but think that
they weren't nothing but hound dogs. In reality, all of the cashiers
were human, except one who was one tenth of a percent saint bernard. Not
being relevent to the story at hand, the events leading up to his
peculiar genetic makeup will not be gone into. Needless to say, neither
he nor the old man had the the slightest idea. Well, the old man had
ideas but they weren't so much a mark of any kind of shrewdness but
rather of his aforementioned senility. So they didn't really count. As
it happened the old man chose to pay for his groceries in the one lane
he deemed not to be run by "one of those damned dog-human hybrids." How
wrong he was!

Slowly and creakingly the old man removed his purchases from a dirty old
cart I neglected to mention. Slowly and creakingly, they they made their
way across the conveyor apparatus. Slowly and, you guessed it,
creakingly the old man removed the money from his wallet and then
dropped both on the ground when he saw what the quasi-canine cashier was
doing. What the cashier was doing, besides picking his nose, rolling his
eyes, and thinking of new and increasingly unlikely scenarios involving
himself and the Dahm triplets was this: putting the old man's oranges,
grapefruit, oatmeal, and Hershey's chocolate bar into a brown paper bag.
What the old man objected to, besides his slow and ever-creaking
digestive tract, inter-species jiggy getting, and truth be told the
world at large was this: integration.

He didn't object to mathematical integration--he previously taught high
school calculus. However, he was strongly inclined towards the belief
that Newton was of canine lineage. Though he had no proof, he stuck to
Riemann sums, just in case. You can never tell with those fruity brits,
but despite their faults no german would trade his frau in for a
dachshund, he thought.

The old man believed that god made different colored fruits for a
reason: oranges with their bright orange rind, and grapefruit with their
whatever the hell that pale-yellow color's called color. He further
believed in a separate but equal policy between bright fruit and pale
fruit. What he vehemently objected to, until he forgot and started
objecting to the opposite thing by accident, was inter-citrus mingling.
With this in mind, he demanded that the cashier withdraw his fingers
from his nostrils and put the grapefruit and the orange in seperate bags
and let him be on his merry way. The cashier didn't think the old man
looked too merry and said so. He also told the old man that he had a
dream: that one day little pale grapefruit would join hands with little
bright oranges as brothers and sisters. The old man said he didn't care
for the cashier's unnatural and shameful ideas, and after paying for his
groceries was on his way. As he walked out of the supermarket, he
removed the hershey's bar from his bag and took a bite. Mmm, he thought,
and dropped dead on the sidewalk.